


Cyclone Yasi

by freddiejoey



Category: Arthur of the Britons
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddiejoey/pseuds/freddiejoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written during North Qld's last great cyclone - just before the lights went out....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cyclone Yasi

Part One

Arthur thinks that she is the most beautiful female that he has ever seen. She is certainly

captivating – thick dark hair that curls close to her scalp, satiny skin, beguiling blue eyes

and a chin that dimples. He cups his own chin in his hand and stares at her in wonder – then

his reverie is emphatically broken by Kai who comes and sprawls on the bed beside him. “Oh

Arthur, she is lovely but we all know that one of the main reasons you keep admiring her so

much is because she looks exactly like you – you’re so vain little brother.” Kai grins

cheekily and ducks to avoid his brother’s swatting hand. Arthur laughs. “I love her simply

for herself - and she’s miraculous on her own terms – nothing to do with me.” Kaitlin sleeps

on contentedly, warmly swaddled in fleeces. She is exactly two weeks old.

 

“Anyway.” Arthur very carefully picks up his daughter who snuffles against his shoulder but

doesn’t wake. “You know I have to leave for Cornwall this afternoon with Llud. I won’t see

her for a whole string of days. By the time I return she might be utterly changed.” He lays

Kaitlin down in her cradle and turns toward his brother. “You also know, Kai my heart. that

I would much rather be staying here with-’’ And at that moment, Theo – three years old,

almost four and a diminutive version of his handsome blonde father - comes barrelling

through the bedroom door, shouting about Grandad Llud having taken a tumble from his horse up

in the high meadow.

 

By the time, Arthur and Kai have helped their father back down into the village and Leni has

looked at his bumps and bruises, one thing is certain – Llud’s good arm is badly sprained and

he won’t be riding anywhere for a time. The meeting in Mark’s village will encompass the

whole Celtic alliance and Arthur had wanted Llud at his side to help quell Bavick’s demands

and Rolf’s more bizarre eccentricities. Now he smiles ruefully at his brother. “How soon

can you collect your clothes and make ready for the journey?” Kai puts his mouth close to

Arthur’s ear. “I’ll wear yours – I’ve done it often enough before.” Arthur’s stomach

lurches deliciously but he pretends to look stern. “Big brother, pack your saddlebags as

quickly as you can please.” Then he bends to murmur against Kai’s shoulder. “Just ensure

that you include that sheepskin coat.” – and his brother’s heart starts to thud……

 

Leni sits bright-eyed on her bed, one-year-old Cedric lying in a drowsy bundle across her

knees. She looks with interest at what Kai is retrieving and discarding. “You need to take

your good fur cloak. It’s still only early summer and the nights are chill.” Her slender

fingers busily wing through the air. Kai tilts her face up to his and gives her mouth a

grandiose kiss. “Stop fretting sweetheart. I’ve got the far easier part of the bargain.

I’ve only got to help Arthur negotiate treaties with the wiliest group of chieftains this

side of Gaul. Your job is going to be far harder.” Leni looks puzzled and pauses in her

soft stroking of Cedric’s gossamer hair. She raises her eyebrows and Kai smiles

mischievously. “ Well, consider this. Would you rather deal with a scheming Dirk and a

bombastic Hereward or remain here and placate a disgruntled Llud?” Leni grimaces and Kai

chuckles. Llud is such an impatient patient………..

 

Rowena is still in a state of extreme physical fragility - and even more fragile

emotionally. Kaitlin’s birth was brutally hard and so now she sits in a crumpled heap at the

longhouse table, irritable, overwhelmed and anxious. Then for the fourth or fifth time that

day she bursts into noisy sobs. Arthur looks at her, chewing his lip. Leni has reassured

him that it will soon pass and he trusts her judgement – but he is still loath to leave

Rowena in such a state. “Here – for my father.” She holds out a small cloth-wrapped package

that is already sodden with tears. Arthur bites back a smile, sits down on the bench and

pulls her onto his lap. Wearily she rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes.

Arthur gently brushes his lips across her tear-stained cheek. “What did you buy from the

trader for Yorath?” “A gold roundel – it has Woden engraved on it.” Rowena begins to

sniffle. “But I made a mistake – I should have chosen the silver pendant with the carving of

Vulcan.” And again she erupts into loud weeping and buries her face in his neck. Arthur

tries not to look amused. It is probably not the best time to remind her that Yorath detests

all things Roman.

 

It is a day and a half’s ride to Mark’s village and the weather is sunny and dry – but the

nights are still cold enough to warrant seeking bodily warmth and energetic activity beneath

a pile of sheepskins……..When Kai and Arthur ride in at sunset, a motley collection of

chieftains is already assembled, suspiciously contemplating each other and methodically

plotting. There is shifty-eyed Dirk; moon-sick hooded Hereward; urbane Ambrose;

idiosyncratic Rolf; amiable Corin; astute Brandreth; interchangeable Garet and Gawain who even

seem uncertain themselves whether they are currently feuding; double-dealing Morged; and

genial eager young Tarn. Mark comes striding out to greet Arthur and Kai, all blustering

cordiality and “my village is your village” cheeriness. He shows them to their hut – “I

trust this humble dwelling will suit your particular purposes” - and arranges for the

stabling of their horses. When Arthur emerges a little while later, Dirk and Morged are

lurking conspiratorially outside in the dusk, heads together, muttering and whispering. “So”

Morged gives his wolfish grin. “I hear that that Jutish wife of yours has whelped, Arthur.”

Dirk attempts a smile that more resembles a sneer. “But a girl-child – well, let’s hope that

sons will follow and that your daughter doesn’t look anything like big fat Yorath.” They

laugh uproariously in unison.

 

Arthur opens his mouth to give a sharp retort – but three things happen simultaneously that

render it superfluous. Kai comes flying out of the doorway of the hut behind him, breathing

heavily in anger. From behind the stables, a fierce rotund figure appears – “big fat”

Yorath, who has overheard everything and who is indeed very fleet of foot for such a stout

man. Arthur has the intense gratification of watching Morged and Dirk grow pale in alarm –

before a third commotion at the palisade gate draws their attention. It is the arrival of

the last Celtic chieftain’s party, belonging to foxy Bavick. He sits astride a great grey

horse, looking around Mark’s village with shrewd interest. Then he knees his horse forward,

Arthur and Kai see who is perched confidently on a white horse behind him – and they are

engulfed in memory. Peering back at them, with a provocative smile playing around her lips,

is Eithna.

 

Last time she had still been a game-playing girl – now she is an alluring woman, slim and

vibrant in her boy’s breeches, thick soft mahogany hair falling in a lustrous curtain past

her waist. Kai briefly remembers the feel of her willowy pliant body pressed against him,

the way, as they made love, that those slender lithesome legs wrapped around his……Then he

gives his tousled blonde head a furious shake. He will never need or want to touch another

woman again save Leni – and some of that overwhelming wondrous realisation he owes to Eithna

and the aftermath of that miraculous moment when his brother smiled at him through the sticky

mead dribbling down his face…….Beside him Arthur is having identical thoughts – although his

have been preceded, not by an image of Eithna naked in the firelight, but of Eithna soaring

through the air and landing in the lake with an outraged yell and a satisfying splash.

So they are both grinning as Eithna dismounts and glides toward them, narrow hips

swaying. “We meet again – and this time truly as friends.” Her voice is still lilting and

her eyes linger speculatively on Arthur and then Kai – the one whom she once so desired, the

other who once so desired her. “I believe that you are both now married. A pity – it would

have been nice to re-discover if you are still trying to be dreamers as well as warriors.”

Kai clears his throat. “Eithna, you’re looking fine and well.” She preens, those calculating

brown eyes still coolly assessing them both. “I have accompanied my father to see how these

negotiations are carried out. After all, I am his only child and one day I will be the

leader of my people.” Silently Arthur returns her attentive gaze – he trusts her even less

now than when he attempted to tie her to her horse……………

 

The feast that Mark provides that night is truly splendid – roasted boar and venison, a

multitude of fruits and vegetables, stuffed dates and honey-sweetened poppy seeds, endless

supplies of mead and adder’s sting. Arthur sits between Kai and Yorath, who avidly questions

him about Rowena and their new arrival. He knows that Rowena’s father has been anxious about

his daughter’s welfare – since Yorath had long ago lost his own wife in childbirth. Half way

through the meal, Eithna makes a grand entrance. She has exchanged her breeches for a tight-

fitting aquamarine gown, that discreetly displays a tantalising glimpse of her milk-white and

surprisingly ample bosom. Kai hungrily slices a hunk of pork and at the same time glances up

toward the top of the table where Mark is sitting – and sees that the king of Cornwall is

staring at the daughter of Bavick, completely mesmerized. She moves gracefully up the room

and seats herself beside Mark with a deceptively shy smile, eyes demurely downcast. Vastly

amused, Kai taps Arthur on the arm and motions with his head toward the spellbound Mark. His

brother follows the direction of Kai’s gesture – and they smile gleefully at each other. The

brash Cornish stallion has at last toppled into the abyss of love….

 

A cold wind ruffles his dark hair as Arthur walks back to their guest hut shortly after

midnight. He draws his cloak tightly around him. Kai had excused himself an hour or so

earlier, claiming exhaustion from the journey. Arthur sighs as he reaches the door – he had

hoped that his big brother might have been feeling a little more enlivened – and then grins

irrepressibly as he enters the hut: after all these years, he should have known better………….

There is a huge fire roaring in the hearth; there are the hut’s two beds pushed together in

the middle of the room and piled with soft sheepskins; there are two generous goblets of mead

roosting on a bedside table; and there is an utterly unweary and utterly unclad Kai, lying

golden and burgeoning, among those luxuriant fleeces…………

 

By the end of the second tedious day of negotiations one thing has become abundantly clear –

Mark’s clumsy attempts at courtship are faring about as successfully as Morged’s lumbering

aspirations to dupe Arthur or Garet and Gawain’s ludicrous efforts to take the proceedings

seriously. Eithna seems faintly bemused but distinctly disinterested. In fact, she appears

to far more flattered by Tarn’s tentative flirtations. As the other chieftains file outside

the meeting room, Arthur stretches his arms above his head and smiles at Kai. He is stiff

and aching – frustratingly from hours of riding a hard bench listening to monotonous

justifications….and deliciously from hours of riding a hard cock listening to his brother’s

rapturous justifications. The recollection of the latter makes Arthur momentarily dizzy.

Then Mark looms up at his elbow and slings one arm around his shoulders and another around

Kai. “I need to seek your counsel. It’s about Eithna.” As if they didn’t already know…..

Kai frowns over Mark’s head at his brother. There will be no time to use the bathhouse if

they are detained by Mark now…..He gives a loud husky cough. “Can it wait Mark? I need to

see your healer. My throat is raw.” Mark looks a little disgruntled. ‘Well, I suppose so -

although I would have thought that your wife would have sent one of her concoctions along

with you.” Arthur starts to shuffle imperceptibly toward the entrance, nudging his brother

in the bottom ahead of him – which only nudges certain other bodily responses of Kai’s into

exuberant action. He barks again, more forcefully. “I’m sorry Mark. I promise that we will

talk later.” And Kai makes a gesture of mitigation as he and Arthur finally tumble out of

the door. Mark narrows his eyes suspiciously. If that silly moon-struck pair think that

they can weasel their way out of helping him win Eithna, then they can just bloody well think

again……………

 

Part Two

Once, during a certain thorny episode involving a bevy of Saxon women, Arthur had

remarked that Rowena was not easily dissuaded when her mind was set – and Mark is certainly

her equal in intrepidity. Late that night he knocks firmly on the door of Arthur and Kai’s

hut. Luckily for him they cannot see his mirthful knowing grin; luckily for them the door is

securely barred. Inside there is a hasty disentangling of naked limbs, a breakneck throwing

on of breeches, a breathless throwing apart of beds. Mark leans against the wall outside,

smiling mischievously in the darkness and then contrives to look innocent when Kai, blonde

hair all mussed and blue shirt all unlaced, throws open the door. “Well, since you’re

already here Mark, you’d better come in.” Mark ducks inside and strives to look as serious

as possible – not an easy matter when the room is permeated by the heady musky fragrance of

interrupted passion. But this business of Eithna is completely serious and so he composes

himself in readiness for perhaps the most significant, certainly the most heartfelt

negotiation of his kingship.

 

Mark turns to face Arthur and Kai who are perched side by side at the foot of one of those

rapidly rearranged beds. “You two – and I suspect most of those other cagey chieftains – must

know by now how I feel about Eithna. I adore her. I’ve never felt quite like this before

about a woman. I want to marry her.” He sees Arthur’s lips quirk in amusement. “Yes

alright, you can have your laugh at my expense if you want – and yes I did say all the same

things years ago when I went through that sham of a betrothal to Rowena. But this time I’m

absolutely sincere and I am going to need your help to carry the day with Eithna.” Kai

playfully bumps his brother’s shoulder. “I believe him – the poor man’s thoroughly

enamoured. I think we should offer our assistance.” Arthur throws Kai a sly grin, stands up

and pours Mark a cup of mead. “And her lands, Bavick’s lands? If they are joined to yours,

you will be formidably powerful. So that fact hasn’t played any part in your wooing?” Mark

scowls. “I think that we’ve already had this conversation quite some time ago at the point

of a sword.” Then he collapses on to the end of ‘Kai’s bed.’

 

“No, the truth is that I’d still want to marry Eithna if she was a penniless Wood person.

She has such fire and elegance - and she’s ravishing.” Mark looks at them beseechingly. Kai

shakes his head laughing. “I tell you he’s sincere Arthur. Bavick’s lands

notwithstanding.” Eagerly, Mark seizes the advantage. “Yes I am – never been more sincere

in my life. And I’m aware from a few whispers on the gooseberry vine that you two held

Eithna hostage some years back. You must have gleaned some knowledge of her – what does she

admire in a man? what will hold her attention?” Kai thinks wryly, “I could tell you a whole

lot more than that about the conniving little witch.” but remains silent. “ Being masterful”

supplies Arthur, “A man who is strong and decisive and knows his own mind.” He raises an

eyebrow and looks at his brother, blue eyes dancing. “You agree?” Kai nods. ‘Yes, a man

who isn’t afraid to take what he wants.” Make gets decisively to his feet, sticking out his

substantial chest just like an aroused pouter pigeon. “Well that’s certainly me - and

certainly not anything like that girlchild Tarn. The thing is how to show Eithna………and with

only a few days left before she rides home again…..”

 

This conversation has gone on much longer than either Arthur or Kai have anticipated. Kai

thinks furiously as the bulge in his breeches grows ever more uncomfortably tumid . Then he

snaps his fingers. “You have to pick a quarrel, something that will grab her notice - and

win it.” “Now why does that particular scenario sound familiar in relation to a marriage

involving Mark?” Arthur muses inwardly. Outwardly he throws an arm around his cousin’s

shoulders and begins to manoeuvre him discreetly in the direction of the door. “ I could

speak to Yorath. As a favour to me, he might consent to help as long as you promise not to

boot him in the arse or throw him into a pile of pig swill……..that way it will at least

appear plausible.” Mark glows with sheer delight. “Yorath – yes, the man has always loathed

me. Talk to him and then inform me about what to do and when. My thanks to both of you.”

Kai’s teeth gleam, very white, in the candlelight as he gives his beautiful smile – and

suddenly things become extremely imperative. Arthur turns aside to adjust his battening

prick and Kai immediately takes the hint. He slides smoothly between Mark and his

brother. “Well, now that we’ve agreed to consult with Yorath, I believe it might be time for

all of us to retire. Another long day ahead tomorrow – all those complicated rights

concerning hunting grounds to debate.” And somehow Mark finds himself standing outside with

Kai, under a velvety sky winking with stars.

 

Companionably, Mark claps Kai on the shoulder. “So, I’ll bid you a good night. I hope you’ll

continue to take my welcoming advice and use this humble dwelling to suit your particular

purposes.” He sways off into the darkness, humming softly. Kai looks at his departing back

suspiciously. Mark couldn’t possibly have guessed………could he………no………..not possible. Having

reassured himself sufficiently, he pushes back inside the door – and then forgets about

Mark’s existence completely. In Kai’s absence, Arthur has divested himself of every piece of

clothing again and now sits awaiting him in bed, grinning and wearing only that sheepskin

coat…………

 

It is late on the following afternoon, when Rolf has been contentedly snoozing for several

hours, Garet and Gawain have resorted to playing a furtive game of tic-tac-toe under the

table, and Hereward and Ambrose have been arguing interminably about fishing privileges, that

Arthur nods quietly to Yorath. The burly Jute flounders to his feet. “ Oh shut up you

boring old pair of washerwomen. Just bloody fish on opposite banks. Mark of Cornwall, I

have a bone to pick with you.” Kai watches Eithna sit up beside her father, as if her

interest has at least been piqued. Mark puts on an affronted expression. “And what have I

done to you, you great barrel of lard?” Yorath waves a provocative finger in his face. “You

knew that I was in negotiations to buy a certain stallion from Llud of the Silver Hand – the

deal was as good as done. Then you went behind my back and offered almost twice my price –

knowing the animal’s real worth. You did it out of malice and spite. You’re a scoundrel and

a cheat.” Yorath crosses his arms expectantly across his portly chest.

 

Now, notes Arthur, Eithna is truly enthralled. She leans forward eagerly, anticipating

Mark’s response. She is not disappointed. With a resounding roar, Mark bounces on to the

table and vaults across it, landing neatly at Yorath’s feet. His eyes glitter with affected

fury. “Now listen to me you gargantuan mountain of fat. I bought that stallion in a fair

deal. There was no underhanded bartering and no intentional enmity. Get that through your

thick skull.” There is not a sound in the room. Almost every chieftain’s face is turned

toward the combative kings and almost every watcher is waiting with bated breath. Kai glances

sideways at Arthur but has to look away quickly to suppress his exuberant grin.

 

Opposite them, Eithna rests her elbow on the table, revealing a delicious slither of

alabaster cleavage. Then Yorath makes a self-deprecating gesture and spreads his hands wide

in supplication. “Alright I suppose I can take your word for it. I could be guilty of over-

reacting. Would you be willing to make a pact and say no more on the matter?” Mark gazes at

the Jutish chieftain dubiously for a moment. But he holds out his hand to clasp Yorath’s in

feigned reconciliation. “Yes, let us agree to let the matter rest. Consider our friendship

renewed.” Yorath sidles back to his place at the table, apparently chastened. Arthur

glances over at Eithna – and is gratified at what he sees: she is gazing at Mark in rapt

admiration. Surreptitiously he and Kai share a triumphant smile.

 

Just before dinner, Yorath waylays Arthur on his way back from the stables. “Well, I hope

that my little charade achieved your purpose. You know that I would never have agreed except

that my daughter has been so content in the last few years thanks to you. And from what you

tell me Bavick’s whelp and that uncouth Cornish swine deserve each other.” Arthur

chuckles. “Oh I think you did almost too well. You even had Mark believing in Llud’s

overvalued stallion.” In fact, all at once, belief in one guise or another is prevalent

throughout Mark’s village. That night Eithna believes that it will be a pleasing thing to

allow Mark to escort her into the feasting and completely disregard Tarn. The next afternoon

Mark believes it is worthwhile to adjourn the negotiations early so he and Eithna can enjoy

an excursion exploring the delights of his kingdom. And on the following and final day of

inter-chieftain arbitration, after being closeted with Mark for a surprisingly brief period,

Bavick reaches the belief that a marriage between his daughter and the king of Cornwall would

be a highly satisfying outcome.

 

The wedding is set for two days time. After all, a convergence of prestigious guests is

already assembled – it would be a shame to waste such illustrious company. The only serious

difficulty occurs when the question arises of who is to solemnize the marriage for the lucky

couple – Hereward or Rolf. Then Arthur wishes for a moment that Llud was there to resolve

the dispute. However, after an afternoon of sulks and slammed doors and threats of armies

arriving at enemy gates, Kai visits both warring huts, swinging his axe diplomatically. He

emerges with a mutually agreeable solution: Rolf will perform the actual wedding ceremony and

Hereward will deliver the (no doubt circumlocutory) nuptial blessing. “See,” Kai whispers

playfully to his brother that night among the fleecy warm sheepskins, “Our father’s wily

influence has rubbed off nicely…..”

 

Happily, after the preceding subterfuge and drama, the wedding itself proceeds without a

hitch. Eithna it must be admitted, even grudgingly by Arthur, looks positively spellbinding.

From somewhere she has purloined a lustrous white silken gown, with golden embroidery

arraying the throat and sleeves. Adorned by a simple circlet of irises, her burnished hair

flows freely down her back, a symbol of maidenhood. (“Well, I can give the lie to that

claim” Kai thinks dryly to himself). Bavick weeps copiously as he watches his daughter being

transformed into a wife. Mark is as resplendent as Mark can ever be in a smart outfit of

clothes – boasting sleeves no less. (Arthur rightly suspects that it is the same finery his

Cornish cousin had been wearing on another long-ago wedding day when his boot had sent Mark

flying face down into the mud). Since then these trappings have obviously been carefully

laundered and stored away hopefully in a lavender-sprinkled chest, against the time when they

might just be required again.

 

Once the raucous marriage feast is concluded, Mark and Eithna are escorted to the flower-

wreathed wedding hut, amid bawdy hooting and loud ribald comments. Kai had avoided this

detail of his own wedding ceremony and Arthur expressly forbade it when he married Rowena.

Mark however revels in it – every lascivious gesture and raffish jest. Eithna stands

blushing prettily at Mark’s side, but seeing the avid spark in those downcast eyes, Kai

surmises that the tables will be irrevocably turned once the door is barred………

 

“So” Kai decisively bars another hut door. “Home tomorrow.” Arthur sits down on the foot of

the beds and begins to pull off his boots. “Yes and with Yorath returning with us…….” His

voice trails off meaningfully. Thoughtfully, Kai chews his lip as he starts to unlace his

shirt. “Well, what do you think that Eithna and your cousin are up to right at this

moment?” Arthur bursts out laughing. “Heaven only knows.” He does his best imitation of

Mark’s brash commanding voice. “I’m a savage bear and you’re my prey. Now off with those

garments.” For answer, Kai throws his breeches into Arthur’s lap so that he is standing

exquisitely naked. Adopting an eerily accurate mimicry of Eithna’s trilling tone, he walks

slowly toward his brother, hands on hips. “You’ve been a bad bad king. You’ll have to be

rebuked. ” Arthur looks down at Kai’s bolt upright prick and is utterly convulsed by

irrepressible glee.

 

“Kai my heart, I don’t think that Eithna has one of those that can…..” And then he gets no

further as his brother leaps on top of him, grinning elatedly. “No and anyway I don’t think

that Eithna would be able to manage this with Mark’s…..” Kai lovingly wraps his fist around

Arthur’s shaft, squeezing gently, then more firmly applying pressure, playing with it,

tickling, fondling, massaging. Arthur fiercely kisses his brother’s mouth. “Undoubtedly

Mark won’t be able to accomplish this.” Ravenously he lets his fingers trace from Kai’s balls

to the top of his cock head, exploring all over, then sliding back down the other half of his

brother’s hardness, in a swift smooth rhythm. Neither of them had ever imagined that you

could laugh so passionately and yet still attain such rapture…………

 

Llud is beginning to worry. His sons, accompanied by Yorath, should have arrived back in

their village at least two days ago. If they are not home by early afternoon, he has every

intention of gathering some men from the village together and riding out to look for them,

sprained arm notwithstanding. As yet though he says nothing, simply spending the leisurely

morning with Leni, Rowena and the children. Then as Leni is clearing away the last remains

of the midday meal, Theo looks up from where he is sitting beside the longhouse hearth,

immersed in a game with his grandfather. He tilts his blonde head to one side,

listening. “Horses Mummy.” Llud smiles. Leni's hands begin to tremble in excitement. Hastily

she signs for Theo to run into the bedroom and tell Rowena who is in there, feeding Kaitlin.

Then she scoops up Cedric, trying – and desperately failing- to behave calmly - it's not

seemly for a married woman to act in such a fashion, she admonishs herself. But thud, smash,

wallop, thunders her heart in her chest – and suddenly Leni is flooded by glorious thoughts

of her husband in her bed, attired in not a thing except that smile................

 

“Father.” Rowena hurrys up to Yorath as he dismounts and hands him Kaitlin. “Here, meet your

granddaughter.” Arthur's gaze meets hers, enquiring. “Are you alright?” he mouths, as Yorath

coos and cheeps like a besotted simpleton over the baby. She comes to stand beside him and

murmur two quiet answers: “Much better... I love you.” Her husband’s blue eyes soften in

response. Then Rowena straightens her shoulders. “Father, don't hold the baby like that.

She's full of milk. She will be sick and then it will be all your fault. Give her back to me

and watch how to do it properly.” Yorath starts to loudly protest and father and daughter are

soon engaged in a fiery quarrel. Arthur kisses the top of Kaitlin's head and sighs with

relief. His shrew with a viper's tongue has safely returned.......

 

Kai has one son hanging from his hip and another clutching at his knees and an entranced wife

gazing at him as if he is worth far more than the most precious monastery ornaments – which

indeed he is. “So.” Llud affectionately pats his elder son's shoulder. “It all went well?

What did I miss?” Kai laughs. “Oh the negotiations were certainly entertaining – all the

usual bravado and conspiring. But they all made their marks on the treaties and have promised

peace – at least for now.” Llud nods, considering. “You were away longer than we expected – I

was starting to worry.” Kai hands Cedric over to Leni, swings Theo on to his other hip and

slips an arm around his wife’s waist. “We had to stay one more day for a wedding.” He and

Arthur look at each other grinning- then Arthur turns to his father. “ And who do you think

became enslaved by love and got married?” Yorath overhears them and breaks off from arguing

with Rowena. He glances at his daughter and chortles. “Your old swain, that filthy Cornish

barbarian.” Rowena gasps in surprise. “Mark! – but who did he find to take as a wife?”

Llud has been standing, silently enumerating the chieftains who might have arrived with

marriageable daughters in tow. An amused smile plays around his lips. “Oh I think I know –

and may Mark’s gods help him. He’d better be prepared for a lively conjugal journey with

that one……..”

 

Much later that night the four men sit around the longhouse table, enjoying a last cup of

mead before retiring. Rowena has long drifted off to bed with Kaitlin and Leni has taken her

two sleepy sons up to her hut – but not before signing certain delicious messages to Kai……

Yorath is contentedly mead-muddled and growing increasingly drowsy – but all at once he

guffaws. “Can you imagine that pair’s wedding night? That mountainous Cornish stallion

should look to his balls – he’ll be soundly knackered within a season.” Arthur looks

carefully at Kai, mirth shining in his blue eyes. “We think that it could have been……

interesting.” Kai takes an even more careful sip of mead. “And somewhat adventurous.”

Suddenly they explode into unrestrained laughter so that Llud is obliged to thump his older

son vigorously on the back lest he choke. Yorath joins in drunkenly, totally unaware of what

he is laughing at. Wonderingly, Llud shakes his head and starts to chuckle too – the

unfathomable nature of love………….


End file.
